


The Undeveloped Story

by rudennotgingr



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Book Club AU, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-15 04:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2216643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudennotgingr/pseuds/rudennotgingr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the insistent advice of his therapist, James signs up for a book club in an effort to be more social. That's where he meets Rose, changing his outlook on life from day one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Could Feel This Way

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a prompt from serenify13, who asked for Ten/Rose, book club AU. Unbeta'd all mistakes are mine. And the swearing is minimal.

He didn't come here to pick up girls.

Well, girl. A girl.

 _The_ girl.

Where did that thought come from? She wasn't even looking at him. And girl was hardly an apt description. Woman. Goddess. 

_Oh for heaven's sake...pull your shit together._

James buried his nose back into his book, trying to quell the strange feeling that had taken hold of his body the instant she had walked through the door. The warm, beaming smile she had given the man across the table as she sank into the seat next to the lucky bastard had turned his stomach into a gold medal gymnast. And he had become consumed by one thought. How could he get her to smile like that at him?

He groaned and prayed to the gods of science fiction, of which there were many, that the leader would start the group soon. The sooner they started, the sooner he could leave. And never come back. He had joined the book club as a last ditch effort to be social. Something his therapist had suggested two weeks ago, some nonsense about work interactions not being enough. Apparently, the ten year anniversary of his parents death was "triggering a relapse".

He shifted irritably in his seat. This was supposed to be a distraction, not--the blonde laughed at something the man beside her had said, the light sound effectively derailing his thoughts. He watched her from above his book still raised in the air, under the pretense of reading but studying her instead. Her hair was a soft honey color, but judging by the darker shade of her eyebrows it wasn't her natural shade. She had amber eyes that he felt could pierce into his very soul if she would only look his way. He wondered what it would be like to kiss her full pink lips. He flushed and hid behind his book.

_Come on, James. You aren't sixteen, stop it._

Maybe he would get lucky and she wouldn't show up next week. Science Fiction didn't really seem like it would be her genera anyway.

"If I could have your attention please," a feminine voice cut across the chatter of the group of fifteen or so.

James looked up, curious.

The blonde was smiling, looking around the group. Her eyes locked with his and he felt his world narrow to nothing but her.

"My name's Rose. Rose Tyler. I'm the head of this book club."

_Shit._

If he knew what was good for him, he should run. Run for his life.

Too bad that was one aspect of his life he never could get a handle on.

.....

The week in between meetups had been spent haunted by her laugh and her smile. His coworkers had given him odd looks as he had a one sided argument with the office printer. Mr. Mott, his therapist, had caught on to his distracted behavior quickly. James remained silent as to the cause during the entire session. Mr. Mott's mischievous smile and "have fun at book club" as James had left his office told him that the old man somehow knew anyway.

Pacing outside the window to the bookstore where the book club was scheduled to meet in five minutes, he was still arguing with himself as to whether or not he should go inside. Spinning on his heel to begin his next pass, he collided with something small and firm. Books fluttered and tumbled to the pavement. His hands shot to the waist of the woman he had accidentally plowed into, trying to keep her upright, as her hands tightly gripped his biceps.

_Woman?_

Blinking rapidly, his vision finally focused on the person whose hips were pressed firmly into his. He swallowed hard, entranced by her long lashes as she did the same. Her eyes sharpened and then lifted to meet his. A slow smile bloomed across her face. His heart stopped beating and he was frozen to the spot.

"Hello," Rose said, her voice breathy and soft. A tremor ran down his spine.

"Hello," he repeated, unable to stop himself from grinning goofily back at her. They stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity. Her eyes this close were mesmerizing, flecks of gold sparkling in the light as if she carried stardust in her soul.

"Excuse me miss, is this yours?" A polite teenager with acne spots dotting his face was holding up one of the books that had been a casualty in their collision.

James and Rose pulled apart, detaching little by little like the slow drag of a zipper. Hands trailed over forearms, fingers brushed absently against each other as if their bodies were loathe to separate.

"Yes! Thank you!" Rose responded to the youth, taking the book from his hands.

James shook himself, remembering where he was.

"I'm sorry. I am so sorry," he blurted, stooping to pick up the rest of her dropped items so she wouldn't have to. After creating a lopsided stack with the remaining books, he shot to his feet to quickly for his blood flow to keep up. He squinted, trying to fight the wave of dizziness and continuing to mutter apologies.

She giggled as she took the books from his outstretched hands. "It really is ok."

"I'm normally not that clumsy," he rambled as he ran a hair through his hair, making it stand on end. "Well, when I say normally, I mean I'm not usually...er...out and around people. So I don't know that you can really--"

"Hey," she interrupted gently, placing a hand on his chest, "I promise it's alright. No harm done. Besides, it's not everyday I find myself in the arms of someone gorgeous."

He felt his jaw drop to the pavement. Surely she wasn't talking about himself? There was no way she meant him. No, no, no.

"See you inside." With a wink and a pat to his chest, she walked around him and into the building.

"Yup," he muttered to himself, running a hand over his hair in attempt to calm it, "Still got it."

Although, “what” exactly he still had...he didn't really know.

.....

A month went by and James still went to the book club meetings every week. The group had picked the first book in the _Weaving Through Time_ series to read over the course of the next few months. He’d already read the book, of course, and was completely caught up on as far as the series went to date. But he decided to keep that information to himself. He didn’t _have_ to participate in the discussions. He could just sit back and listen. Although he did pipe up now and again to avoid looking like a complete nutter.

Rose proved to be not only exceptionally personable but also far more knowledgeable about Science Fiction than he had initially given her credit for. So he couldn't understand why people were slowly beginning to not show up. 

…..

When he showed up the following week and it was just the two of them, James was sure she was going to cancel the whole thing. The sinking dread had burst into pure joy when she had simply shrugged her shoulders and said, "I'm game if you are?"

He was very much game. He just didn't think she was playing the same game he was.

Come the end of the meeting, two hours after they usually ended, he was no longer sure that they were playing different games. Not only had she given him the same smile that had ensnared him from day one, he had also discovered another, even better smile. Which honestly shouldn't even be possible. But the way his heart stuttered in his chest every time her pink tongue peeked out between her teeth was telling him otherwise.

They had spent the three hours discussing almost every sci fi author under the sun instead of going over the reading. Not only was Rose Tyler drop dead gorgeous. She was extremely intelligent. Maybe not always in the book smart ways that he was, but she had insight into stories and people that he knew he would never have. They had differed on opinions a few times, yet their spirited debates had left him feeling refreshed and amused. It had taken them no time to figure out how to push the other one to the point of mind blowing frustration, only to say something the next moment that dissolved the argument in a fit of laughter. He had left the meeting in high spirits, his heart soaring far beyond the clouds. 

He was smitten, but refused to admit it.

.....

"So who is this girl?" Mr. Mott inquired, his tone irritatingly neutral.

"What girl?" James deflected while trying to resist the urge to tug on his ear. He had worked with the older man long enough that he knew all his tells, probably better than he knew them himself.

"The girl who's had you in such high spirits the past few weeks."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." James crossed his arms, leaning back in the plush brown chair.

"Especially this week," Mr. Mott pressed on. "There's a light in your eyes that hasn't been there since before your parents died."

"There is _no_ girl," James spat through clenched teeth.

"Alright, alright." The other man shook his head of short white hair and held his hands up. "No need to get hostile. I'm an old man _and_ your therapist. I'm allowed to be nosy."

James released the breath he had been holding, chuckling softly while rolling his eyes.

"All I'm saying is that she, or he, not my place to judge, is doing you some good is all." He smiled fondly at James then looked back down at his notepad, scribbling something on the paper.

James scrubbed a hand down his face. The old man was right, of course he was. He knew that Rose had become an important aspect of his life, a constant he looked forward to each week. Right now he was adamantly telling himself that all he wanted from her was friendship. And if that was the only way to keep in his life until the day he died, then that's what he would do. He just wasn't sure he trusted himself not to muck up the whole bloody thing.

.....

At the next meeting, James and Rose found themselves to be the only two who showed up. 

Again.

He had walked in ten minutes early and grabbed a seat. He was impressed with the way he was able to smile broadly at her as she plopped in the chair next to him a mere five minutes later, despite his frantically racing heart. They made small talk while waiting to see if anyone else would show up (he hoped they wouldn't). It wasn’t the kind of chit chat that rotted your mind or felt stiff and uncomfortable. It were as if they were lifelong friends, merely passing the time. Truth be told, that’s how James felt about her. As if his soul had known her throughout its existence and had just been waiting to find her again. There was no way she would feel the same.

He brushed off the painful thought as Rose checked the time on her phone.

“Hmm,” she said, frowning as she looked back at him. “Seems like we’re the only ones again.”

“I don’t mind,” he answered honestly.

She gave him a half hearted smile.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she replied, shaking her head and looking down at her hand still fidgeting with her mobile. “Let’s just--”

“Rose,” he injected gently, reaching out to grasp her hand on some odd impulse. A jolt shot up his arm and he had to swallow before speaking again. “What’s wrong?"

She stared at their hands but made no move to pull away.

“You can tell me,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Do you think people stopped coming...because of me?” She looked up at him, worrying her bottom lip.

He willed himself to keep looking at her eyes. “That’s nonsense.”

“I’m being serious, James.”

“So am I. That is complete and total rubbish. Well...wait...no, maybe not.”

“I knew it." She yanked her hand away and rose from her chair.

“No!" He grabbed her elbow, gently imploring her to wait, while gesturing frantically with his other hand. "I didn’t...that’s not, I mean...not like that.”

“Then what?” She shook his hand off, but sank back into her chair with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“Just that..." he trailed off, running a hand through his hair, "people might find you, um, intimidating.”

She laughed bitterly. “Me? Intimidating? That’s ridiculous.”

“No, it isn’t. I was intimidated by you initially. Well, still am sometimes to be honest," he admitted nervously, tugging on his ear.

“How? How could I possibly be intimidating? Look at me.” She used one hand to indicate the length of her body as best she could while sitting down. James couldn’t help the way his eyes raked over her, following the motion.

“Exactly,” he mumbled. His eyes snapped back up to hers, wide and fearful as he realized he had spoken out loud. Her cheeks were flushed and her jaw hung slightly open. “Um, what I mean is...not only are you kind and compassionate, you are very intelligent and...beautiful.”

Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. “I am not.”

“You’re breath taking,” he blurted before he could stop himself.

She opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by the loud rumbling of her stomach. She covered her abdomen with both hands, looking apologetic. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for being hungry.” Truth be told, he was thankful for the diverson.

“I didn’t get to eat before hand like I usually do.”

“Need to go grab something from the cafe?”

She looked over her shoulder at the in store cafe, her nose wrinkled adorably as she turned back to him. “No, I’ll be ok. Anyway, if I’m gonna eat, I want to _eat_.”

“Well, it is just the two of us...we could go some place to eat?" He drew in a deep breath, panic already setting in at having been dumb enough to ask. "If you want," he quickly amended, shrugging his shoulders and making a face that he hoped conveyed indifference. Inside he was screaming in fear. Fear that she would say no and leave him feeling like the bloody idiot he was. And worse, fear that she would say yes.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Um." Shit. He hadn't thought _that_ far ahead. He suggested the first thing that came to mind. "There's a really good chippy just down the street?”

“Deal.”

They stood from their seats, James grabbing Rose’s books off the table, insisting he carry her things.

“Just so we’re clear, this isn’t a date," Rose informed him as she walked out the door he held open for her.

“Of course not,” he replied with a mock salute and an overly serious face. She giggled and shook her head.

As they headed down the street, Rose slipped her hand into his and threaded their fingers together. 

James nearly tripped over his own feet.

They walked hand in hand down the street towards the chippy. She swung their clasped hands between them, occasionally bumping his shoulder with her own. She had said it wasn’t a date. He kept repeating that in his head like some sort of mantra. But the way she kept touching him, and the way she kept looking up at him, and the looks people they passed on the sidewalk kept giving them...it felt like a date.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

The only thing that made it _not_ feel like a date, was when she insisted on paying for her own order of chips. Which he let her do, of course. Even though it had felt like a little jab to his heart. They stood at the counter and made idle talk while waiting for their food, James keeping a smile plastered on his face as best he could.

With steaming baskets of chips, they found an empty booth in a back corner near the window. Rose had carried his drink since he still had a hold of her books, which he sat down on one side of the table before sliding himself into the opposite side. She set his drink down then looked around, frowning, before snatching a bottle of vinegar from a nearby table.

James choked on his first bite when she seated herself right next to him, their thighs touching even after he moved to give her more space.

“You alright?” she asked, giving his back a few pats before running her hand in wide circles between his shoulder blades.

He nodded while taking a long sip of his drink. The ice cold water soothed the burning in his throat, but did nothing for the heat searing through his veins.

_Not a date. Not a date._

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head back so that she could continue rubbing his back. It was stupid and he should tell her to stop. But he couldn’t. It felt bloody brilliant. And not in a sexual way. Well, not _just_ in a sexual way.

“Next time let them cool off a bit, yeah?” she teased, pulling her hand away and reaching for her stolen bottle of vinegar.

He had to look at her with an arched eyebrow to keep from pouting. She didn’t notice anyway. 

Rose was busy poking around at the chips with her fork, searching for the perfect one. She speared one then held it up, peering at it closely, before popping it into her mouth. Her shoulders relaxed and her eyes closed, groaning around the fried morsel in obvious appreciation.

He had a flash of her with her hair tousled and lips swollen, lying beneath him, making the same sound.

“These...are… _gorgeous_ ,” she purred after a moment.

James shoveled chip after chip in his mouth, to cover up the way it had been hanging open. He focused on the way his tongue tingled in protest as burn marks formed on his tastebuds, praying the pain would push the inappropriate image from his mind.

_Notadate, notadate, notadate._

Rose ate another two chips then turned slightly to look at him, her knee pressing firmly into his thigh. “So...James. How do you know about this place?”

“Oh, er,” he cleared his throat. “Stumbled upon it by accident really. Well, maybe not _accident_. Was only a matter of time to be honest. I live in the building just across the street.” He leaned back, the arm nearest her wedged on to the back of the booth between them, and pointed out the window. “Can see my window from here. Third floor. Flat 39-B, that’s me.” He had been grinning proudly, his finger pressed against the glass, when it hit him that he had probably revealed something she didn’t want to know. His stomach tightened in a knot. Blimey, he was a rambling idiot. “Not that you needed…” he trailed off as he turned back towards her, caught off guard by her new position.

She had pushed his basket out of the way in order to lean across the table and peer out the window, inches from falling right into his lap. He sucked in a breath and stretched his arm out along the length of the booth, gripping it tightly with his fingers. She looked up at him, face slightly lower but mere inches from his, and his heart floundered in his chest.

“Er, to know that,” he finished awkwardly, barely above a whisper as if afraid of scaring her off.

She broke out in a slow smile, hindered only by the fact that her white teeth dug into her bottom lip. He tried not to fidget under her intense stare. “Oh, I don’t know.” She sat up slowly, never breaking eye contact, and reached for his drink. Her tongue darted out to guide the straw into her mouth before her lips closed over it. 

His mouth went dry and he vaguely remembered her insisting that she wouldn’t need a drink when they had placed their orders.

“Never know when I’ll need a place to crash.”

_Minx._


	2. You Could Feel It Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to thedoctordanceswithrose for the quick beta on this. And for saving the ending. Also, there is a small mention of domestic/physical abuse in this chapter. The incident itself is not described, just the injuries. Which are not gory or explained at depth either. But it is there. Feel free to message me here or tumblr if you need more info before reading.

Seventy-two hours had gone by since their date-not-date.

James found himself staring out his living room window at the chippy below, forehead against the glass and far away look in his eyes. He replayed every instant from that evening for the...well, it didn’t matter how many times he had replayed it. He was fairly certain he had long since passed the “normal” number of times to revisit a singular event. And it didn’t matter if it was the tenth time or the one hundredth, he was left with the same mixed feelings every time.

Mostly, his heart felt like it would leap from his chest and the swirling in his stomach could only be equated with a swarm of butterflies. Which was silly and ludacris and something that was only supposed to happen in cheesy romantic films.

They had stayed there for hours, talking and getting to know each other. They had even ended up ordering more chips (and sharing another drink). It didn’t take long to discover that Rose Tyler was a very tactile person. Touching his hand, leaning on his shoulder. There had even been the occasional instance of her hand dropping to his thigh. He just wasn’t sure if she was acting that way because of _him_ or if she was like that with everyone. He had quickly found himself responding in the same way, against his will and better judgement. Keeping his arm stretched out behind her, as if they were a proper couple. Bumping his knee against hers. Brushing hair out of her face.

He had found himself ridiculously at ease with her, and had even caught himself nearly telling her about his parents. Something he never did with anyone, save his therapist, of course. But he had stopped himself each time, convinced it was something she didn’t want to hear. She never pushed, merely smiled reassuringly and gracefully changed the topic.

At some point, they had exchanged numbers (her idea) and he felt like he would burst from giddiness.

By the time they had left the chippy, it was dark outside. James had insisted on walking her home. She had laughed and waved him off before grabbing his hand and letting him accompany her to the bus stop.

And that’s when it had happened. When he had nearly vomited on the pavement right in front of her. The mental image of them sitting side by side on the bench waiting for the bus with his arm around her and her head nuzzled against his shoulder flashed painfully in his mind as the conversation replayed itself.

_“It’s really sweet of you to wait with me. You didn’t have to, you know.” She pulled the arm he had draped over her shoulder more securely around her. The only thing keeping him from touching her chest was the way she held his hand between both of hers._

_“It’d be rude of me not to,” he explained lamely, trying to keep his breathing even._

_“Guess my boyfriend’s the rude sort then.”_

_He stiffened, bile churning in his stomach. He wasn’t sure if it was his rigid stature that alerted her to his take on her casual mention of a boyfriend...or the sound of his breaking heart._

_“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” She sat back so she could see his face, but kept a firm grip on his hand. He took small comfort in the fact that she did indeed look genuinely sorry. But she also looked afraid. He just wasn’t sure why. “Was that...are you mad?”_

_He took a deep breath and realized that he was in fact, not angry. Hurt, yes. But not mad. Not at her. Never at her. He decided to settle on middle ground. “More...confused.”_

_“Confused that I have a boyfriend?” Her eyes narrowed and there was a flash of anger that sparked within them._

_“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he said softly, gently squeezing her hands._

_“Then…” she paused and worried her bottom lip, “What did you mean?”_

_“You, Miss Tyler...are sending very mixed signals.” He looked pointedly at their still joined hands._

_“Oh. Right.” She looked down at their hands, then at her lap, still not releasing his hand. They were silent for a moment. When she looked back up, she looked beaten and worn down. He fought the urge to tug her closer, and wrap her completely in his arms. “It’s just...you’re not like Jimmy. My boyfriend. You’re thoughtful and sweet. And you actually listen to me and what I have to say. And you don’t laugh at me when I talk about my dreams.”_

_“Why would I do that?”_

_She looked at him sadly, the implication that Jimmy did exactly that making James tighten his arm around her. He hated him._

_“Why are you still with him?” he asked instead, trying hard to understand why she would be with someone who clearly didn’t treat her the way she deserved._

_She shrugged. “Habit? Some degree of comfort I guess. Don’t really know anymore.”_

_His half-formed arguement died in his throat as the bus pulled up. She leaned fully into him and planted a kiss on his cheek before whispering, “thank you” and then walking away._

Later that same evening, he had been lying in bed for hours, tossing and turning. Too confused to sleep. His phone had chirped on his night stand. It was a text from her.

_Maybe next time you can tell me what was on your mind. xo_

He had fallen asleep to dreams of pink and yellow.

They had been texting non-stop since that evening. Three days of not seeing her, but reading her words on his tiny mobile screen. He was addicted.

Oddly, she had stopped texting him hours ago. A fact that shouldn't bother him...but did. She had her own life, her own _boyfriend_. She didn't owe him anything. Didn't even owe him a reason why the texts had stopped coming, even though in the few days they'd had each other's numbers she'd always tell him when she was going to be silent for an extended period of time.

A small part of him was jealous, immediately thinking she was occupied with Jimmy. Which she had every right to. He still hated it. For some reason he couldn't quite place his finger on, he was mostly worried. What if she had gotten in an accident? His mind flashed through scenario after scenario, each one progressively worse, until he had an image that too closely resembled the fire his parents had died in. Only this time it was Rose trapped inside, screaming for help that would arrive too late.

He gasped for air, not realizing he had been holding his breath, and grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter for support. He was shaking from head to toe, a cold sweat having broken out across his forehead.

Tea. He needed tea.

He took two steadying deep breaths before pushing himself away from the counter, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He functioned on autopilot, getting the water ready as he withdrew into himself. It was a tactic he had used too many times to count, pulling away from everything until he felt numb, detached. It worked well, as far as self-preservation went. Not so good for interacting with others.

He splashed cool water on his face before heading back out to the living area and collapsing on the sofa. Maybe cancelling his appointment with Mr. Mott yesterday had been a bad idea. He pushed that from his mind and focused on a crack in the ceiling until everything else in his field of vision blurred past the point of recognition. His body was no longer shaking, but a persistent tingling filled his limbs. Perhaps he should take one of his sleeping pills with his tea, call it a night.

_Tap, tap, tap._

The noise at his door was so soft, he almost didn’t hear it. Yet it somehow burrowed its way into his mind, rousing him from his daze. He leaned forward on the sofa, straining his ears for the sound to repeat itself, afraid he had only imagined it.

_Taptaptaptaptaptap._

It was only a hair louder this time, but there was no mistaking the urgency behind it. He leapt off the couch, wondering who in their right mind would be bothering him, of all people. He undid the locks then flung open the door, ready to tell off whoever it was. His jaw dropped.

“Rose?” he asked, not believing that she was actually standing in front of the doorway to _his_ flat.

Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and she was dressed in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt with a pair of large sunglasses on her face despite the rapidly setting sun. There was a large duffle bag on the floor next to her that sent some sort of warning bell off in his brain. She was far less put together than he had ever seen her. Still just as gorgeous.

“What are you doing here?” he blurted, standing with one hand on his door and the other on the door frame, effectively blocking the entrance.

“Um,” she shifted nervously on her feet, glancing up and down the hall, “can I...can I come in?”

“What?” James blinked. “I mean, yes! Yes, of course. Let me get that.” He stepped aside so that she could come in, then leaned down and picked up her bag with one hand, looking worriedly up and down the hall himself. It was empty. Moving back inside, he dropped her bag on the ground just beside the entrance as he closed the door and locked it back up. He hoped the action didn’t set her on edge or make her think he was trying to trap her here. It was just a habit. And the way she was acting made him think she would actually be grateful for the gesture.

“So not that I…” he trailed off as he turned and got a proper look at her. Something cold and hard twisted in his stomach, his eyes narrowing in on the swollen puff of her bottom lip. He crossed over to her, taking a deep breath as she flinched when he gently placed a hand on her upper arm. He stroked his thumb over fabric and skin, not yet trusting himself to speak.

She kept her arms tightly crossed over her chest, remaining guarded and closed off. He swallowed, praying that what he now assumed was the reason for her dark glasses was anything else. She ducked her head as he reached up and removed the sunglasses from her face.

The glasses clattered to the ground and he sucked in a breath, feeling an odd combination of ice and fire rushing through his veins. It wasn’t as bad as he had feared, but the purple around her left eye was enough evidence that someone had fucking hit her. He was going to find the bloody bastard and put his head through a wall.

“Jesus, Rose,” he breathed, tipping her face up towards the light to get a better look. Her silence unnerved him and he looked into her eyes, seeing vulnerability and unshed tears. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m here.” He pulled her into an embrace, with her crossed arms sandwiched between them. He rubbed her back until she relaxed against him and pressed her face into his chest.

“I’m sorry, I just...I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Shhh, don’t think anything of it.”

Just as she began to shake, he was sure from crying, the kettle whistled in the kitchen.

“Shit, sorry...I was, um...tea?” he stumbled over his words, craning back to look down at her.

She nodded against him but otherwise didn’t move. The pitch grew steadily higher and louder.

“I, er, I need...well, I don’t need, but in order to get the tea...you’re going to have to let go.” He unwrapped his arms from around her, pushing her gently away.

Her head shot up, panic all over her face. She uncrossed her arms and clutched at his shirt. “Please, don’t leave me.”

His initial response was going to be “it’s just the kitchen.” And if it had been anyone else in the whole universe, the words would have tumbled from his lips without a second thought. But not to Rose.

Never to Rose.

He placed a quick kiss to her forehead, then took her hand and led her into the kitchen where the kettle was now screeching at the top of its nonexistent lungs. He tried not to put too much weight on the coupleyness of the whole thing. Was that even a word? Probably not. He didn't care. He tried not to focus on how Rose never let go of him. She allowed him the use of both hands, but kept a grip on his arm, anticipating his movements as he made their tea. She had never been to his flat before, yet could predict exactly where he needed to go in order to retrieve the necessary items. Was that normal? Or was it a sign?

_Stop it. Now is really not the time for this._

Tea made (hers just the way she liked it, thank you very much) and now in two steaming mugs, they slowly made their way back to the living room. Rose didn't unloop her arm from his until he encouraged her to sit on one end of the sofa. She looked scared and at a total loss of what to do until he placed the warm mug in her hands. The lines of her body loosened as she breathed in the tea and pulled her knees up to her chest.

James sat somewhere between the opposite end and the middle of the sofa, not wanting to seem overly eager, yet not wanting her to feel abandoned either.

They drank in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. The liquid sliding down his throat and sloshing in his stomach helped calm his earlier anxiety. But it did nothing for the sour taste in his mouth and the simmering anger in his blood, knowing he had been right. Rose had been in trouble. And he needed to know what had happened. He leaned away from her, placing his half-drunk tea on the end table nearest him. He scrubbed both hands down his face, willing himself to remain calm for her sake. An explosion from him was the last thing she needed right now.

"Was it Jimmy?" he asked with steel in his voice. He turned toward her, arm resting on the back of the sofa but not touching her.

Rose didn't meet his eye, staring intently at her mug instead. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet and guarded. "Was what Jimmy?"

"Was he the one to do your hair?" he snapped sarcastically. "Fuck, Rose. You know bloody well what I meant."

She looked up at him then, eyes wide and shining with fresh tears as she gripped her mug tightly.

_Fuckfuckfuck._

He ran a hand through his hair, yanking angrily on the ends and forced himself to calm the fuck down. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That wasn't fair. That was...well, that was rude. And I...I'm sorry."

She bit the uninjured side of her lip, studying him for a moment. The moment seemed to stretch on forever and he hoped that she could see just how sincere he was. He would never forgive himself if she decided to leave right now because of his stupidity, when she sorely needed someone who cared about her. And he did care for her. More than he had wanted to admit. But he would confess in a heartbeat if it meant she would stay.

Rose nodded her head, accepting his apology. He almost fainted from relief.

“Why does it matter who did it?” she asked, trying to deflect his question, then took a long sip from her mug.

He blinked, floored that she was so casually brushing it off as if it wasn’t important. As if _she_ wasn’t important. What kind of people had she been surrounding herself with? “It matters, because it’s important.”

She shrugged, then twisted around to place her mug on the table behind her. She wrapped her arms around her legs which were still tucked up to her chest, then rested her chin on her knees. “And what are you gonna do if I tell you who it is?”

“Well, I would _like_ to put the bloody wanker in the hospital. Teach him once and for all some manners and that that is no way to treat a lady.” He could feel the rage seeping into his tone, unable to hide just how disgusted he was with the bastard.

“Is that it then? You gonna be my knight in shining armor? I’m not capable of taking care of myself? How would that make you any better than him?” She didn’t move, but at least some flicker of emotion had replaced the vacant look in her eyes. Even if did appear to be anger she was directing at him.

“Rose, no...that’s not.” He was always such rubbish with words and explaining himself. Why couldn’t he just talk like a normal person? “Look, I know you are perfectly able to handle yourself. And I said that’s what I would _like_ to do. That doesn’t mean that’s what I am actually going to do. I mean...I would, if you wanted me to. But that’s not...I just...at the very least he needs to be reported to the police.”

“Why?” She tilted her head, the light highlighting the injuries on her face.

James swallowed hard. “To help prevent him from doing it again. To show him there are consequences to his actions. He can’t treat people like that. It’s not right.” He moved his hand from the back of the sofa to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “You deserve better than that.”

She leaned into his touch and gave him another sad smile. Something he never wanted to see on her face ever again. “I don’t know about all that.”

“No, but you do.” He couldn’t fathom how she really didn’t feel like she deserved more than what she was getting. Words came tumbling out of his mouth. He knew he was taking a risk, coming close to revealing how he felt about her, but the need to make her see what she deserved burned on his tongue. “Rose, you deserve nothing but the best. You deserve someone who puts you first. Someone who would give you the stars if that’s what you wanted. Someone who cares for you and is there for you but doesn’t keep you caged in. Someone who treats you with the respect you deserve. Someone who listens to your every word, your hopes and fears. Your desires. You…” he trailed off, just noticing that at some point she had lowered her knees and scooted closer. 

His fingers were now tangled in the hair at the back of her neck. He angled himself so that his body was towards her, their knees pressing together. She was staring at him, her eyes filled with warmth and something he didn’t dare hope for. She was just so _close_. Everything in him was screaming to kiss her, to lean forward just a bit more and close the distance between them. But he couldn’t, not now. She was vulnerable, and what if she only let him because he was being nice? His heart was racing in his chest as he whispered the rest of his sentence, “You deserve someone who loves you so much, they feel it down to their soul.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes.”

“All of it?”

He took her hand and placed it on his chest. “With all my heart.”

He didn’t know where his burst of confidence came from, and doubted he would have it ever again. He was rewarded when she leaned forward, nudging his nose with her own. She hesitated, her breath puffing over his lips, afraid that she had misread the signs.

Tilting his head, he pressed a light kiss to the uninjured corner of her mouth. Her hand tightened into the fabric of his shirt while they both exhaled in blissful relief. The kiss was sweet and gentle, a light touch of mouths that didn’t need to turn into more. Not yet. 

“So does this mean I can stay?” she asked, pulling away and smiling at him with her tongue poking out from between her teeth.

His returning smile was equally bright, his mind already racing to months down the road. “Absolutely.”

Pulling her firmly to him, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He forced his overactive brain to slow down. Now that things were more or less out in the open, and they were clearly on the same page, there would be time for plans and _dates_ in the future. Right now Rose needed him, possibly as much as he needed her. And he was up for forever if she was.


	3. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I wrote an epilogue. Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine.

That night, even though James had insisted that Rose take the bed and that he would take the couch, they had both fallen asleep on the sofa. Waking up to see her head pillowed on his chest and to feel her safely in his arms quickly jumped to the top of his "best feelings in the world" list. 

A list that over the course of time would become full of things that centered around Rose.

…..

During the next week, Rose took care of the Jimmy situation. On her own. James didn’t push it, it was a chapter of her life that she needed to close. All that mattered was that she was out of the bastard’s reach and free to move forward. She also brought the rest of her few worldly possessions into his flat and took up permanent residence in his bed.

He stayed on the couch.

…..

Two weeks to the day she had showed up on his doorstep, James took Rose on a _proper_ date. He took her to an art gallery that she had told him at the chippy that she could only dream of going to. Luckily for her, he knew the right people and had made it his personal mission to make all of her dreams a reality. After watching her walk through the exhibit with wide eyes, drinking it all in, they had found themselves back at the chippy. Fancy dress clothes and all. Flirting and hand holding and hugs and walking arm and arm back to _their_ flat came to a too soon ending when James led her silently to the bedroom door. He knew what she was probably expecting, he would be a fool if he didn’t recognize the same want within himself. But they weren’t ready, not yet. She deserved better, and he was going to make sure she got it. He cupped her cheek and kissed her sweetly before pulling away, whispering good night.

…..

One month later, he had taken the afternoon off to come home early while she was still working at the shop. He had taken it to heart when she had first told him that what she really wanted to do was paint. But until she had the money, which she was very close to having saved up, and until she had the space to be able to practise, she wasn’t going to bother enrolling in classes. 

So he bought the basics, fully intending on taking her with him at a later date to purchase anything else she needed. Working quickly, knowing she would be home soon, he shoved all his things to one corner of the tiny office and then set up Rose’s art supplies all over the rest of the space. By the time she got home, he was lounging on the couch and pretending to find something for them to watch on the telly with dinner. He asked her to grab something from the office, carefully keeping the excitement out of his voice. The seconds ticked by, the silence deafening to his ears. Maybe he had done the wrong thing?

A streak of blonde flashed in the corner of his eye, then Rose was in front of him. His brain gave out as she straddled his lap, her hands in his hair and her tongue down his throat. Thankfully, his body responded on its own. The remote dropped to the floor as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her back just as frantically. When his hand found her breast and she rocked in his lap, bringing sharp attention to his erection straining in his trousers, he pulled back. His heart ached when he saw the look of rejection on her face. Panting and shaking his head, he kissed her forehead and held her face in both hands. 

“Slowly,” he whispered, hoping she would understand. Hunching down, she buried her face in the crook of his neck and mumbled her thanks against his skin.

…..

Months went by. James saw Mr. Mott less and less. Surely a good sign, but a little unsettling none the less. Rose had enrolled in classes and their flat was soon filled with sketches and paintings, from landscapes to people. All of them beautiful. 

They were now sharing his bed every night (best feeling ever). And while kisses had turned to snogs that lasted longer and longer and hands had wandered farther and farther and they were so entwined after the sun set that you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began...they still had yet to cross _that_ bridge. A bridge his body was finding harder and harder to resist barreling across.

He had, however, told her about his parents. She didn’t pity him or make him feel awkward. She was kind and reassuring and understood to a small degree, having lost her father when she was a little girl. She had in turn opened up more about her strained relationship with her mum. They hadn’t seen nor spoken to each other in three years. He wasn’t sure what he had said exactly to gently nudge her in the right direction; but for the first time since she had moved in, James found himself alone one weekend while Rose went to try and repair the damage she had done with her mother. He knew how to survive and take care of himself, but the flat felt so empty without her presence. He felt incomplete without her smile, without her hand in his...without her beside him at night. Maybe he actually needed her more than she needed him.

In the end it really didn’t matter who needed who more. They needed each other and that was enough.

When she finally, _finally_ , returned late Sunday evening in high spirits, she had barely been able to tell him hello before he was pressing her into the door, kissing her as if she had been gone a whole bloody year. A trail of clothes followed them from the entryway to their bed, Rose apparently having missed him just as much. Positioned between her thighs, looking down at her flushed cheeks and hooded eyes, he forced himself to pause.

_Toofast, toofast, toofast._

She bit her lip, waiting for him to make the next move. There was no going back now, he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. But that didn’t mean he had to rush ahead like some bloody teenager. She had probably had enough of that with Jimmy and her other boyfriends.

He went slow, touching and tasting every inch of her body. Learning what she liked and finding out what she _loved_. At first she had been surprisingly shy, unused to the single minded attention. But as he worshiped her body, showing her with his actions just how worthy and important she was, she relaxed and rewarded him with encouraging sounds that were music to his ears. Both of their bodies straining with the need to feel release, he buried himself within her and had never felt so at home. He made love to her in a way he had never done before, and knew that if the universe ripped them apart he would never be able to do with anyone ever again. When they toppled over the edge with the force of two stars colliding, it was the most perfect moment in his entire life. 

With their breathing finally recovered, he realized that she was crying. He panicked, once again thinking he had mucked something up. But when she pulled him to her and kissed him firmly, then rolled them over and returned the favor...he understood.

…..

In the year that followed, their relationship was what James would describe as perfect. Not perfect in the sense that it was always rainbows and butterflies. But perfect in the sense that while there were ups and downs, when all was said and done, he wouldn’t rather be with anyone else.

One night they had fought over something stupid, James couldn’t even remember what it was. Maybe that was due to the alcohol he had been drinking since she had locked herself in their office/studio four hours ago.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Stumbling and a wee bit drunk, he banged on the door. Instead of listening to her demand that he leave her alone, he began apologizing and somewhere along the line confessed that he loved her.

The lock clicked and the door swung open. He nearly tumbled into the room, his legs unsteady from the booze and his arms screaming to hold her. Rose stared up at him, eyes red from crying. He flicked his eyes over her shoulder, noticing a waste basket full of tissues and a half empty bottle of liquor. Oh good, so she had been drinking too. With great effort, he refocused on her face, mentally bracing himself for the yelling that was sure to come.

"You love me?" she whispered.

He blinked at her. "You didn't know?"

"No. I--"

"How could you not know?"

"You never said."

"I--" he stopped, heart sinking as he realized she was right. He had shown her, everyday. Of course he had. But the words had never came out. And while actions generally spoke louder than words, he became painfully aware that sometimes it did need saying. "I love you. Rose Tyler, I--"

He didn't get to say it a third time. She was kissing him, and her hands were tugging at his hair and, _oh god_ , she was doing that thing with her teeth on his lip and fire was racing through his veins and all he knew was that needed her right then.

He wasn't sure how he managed to keep them upright in his inebriated state, but he had her back to the nearest wall, his trousers at his ankles and her skirt bunched at her waist. He pounded into her, rough and wild, until she screamed his name and he followed closely behind. They fell asleep on the floor, tangled together.

In the morning he was certain of a few things. He loved her, and she loved him back. She would never be able to wear that particular pair of knickers again. And she had somehow left marks on his back through the fabric of his shirt (not that he minded).

But there was one thing he wasn't certain of. Protection.

Everything had happened so quickly and his brain was still fuzzy from the alcohol and from _Rose_ and try as they might...neither could find a shiny wrapper that told them they were in the clear.

…..

A month later, when she came out of the bathroom with a little white stick and tears in her eyes, he could only stare in shock at the two blue lines. Until he realized she was at the door and ready to leave, something about staying at her mother's while he made up his mind.

He was in front of her in a flash, jumbled thoughts and words rushing out of his mouth. How he had been so used to being alone, without any family, that he had never thought that he could one day have his own. How he wouldn't make her keep the baby but if she wanted, he would very much like her to. How he couldn't imagine life without her and that adding another life that was part her and part him was just so...brilliant and amazing. And suddenly he was on his knees, holding her hands and asking her to marry him. That it wasn't just because of the baby, the he needed her more than he needed air. That she completed him. And oh shit, he didn't have a ring. Weren't you supposed to have a ring? He had been planning on buying one anyway, but could never decide between the two he had found. And maybe he should just buy her both rings. And oh fuck, he was messing this up wasn't he? He was an idiot and he should never--

Rose threw herself at him, arms around his neck and sending them both to the floor. She kissed his face over and over, each kiss followed by a yes and her returning promise of forever.


End file.
